


Troubled Spirits

by DeathjunkE



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Adoption, Family of Choice, Gen, Mutism, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, but not like you think, deaging, magical weasley talent of procuring children
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-08-01
Updated: 2012-08-01
Packaged: 2018-05-23 18:04:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6125344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathjunkE/pseuds/DeathjunkE
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Then you and I had best get along until I can find some where for you." Charlie said with a sad smile. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, he was supposed to be in Romania with his Dragons as a perpetual bachelor, getting letters from his family and no where near this injured orphaned child, a child who should be whole hale and happy with his family.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Troubled Spirits

**Title:**  
Troubled Spirits On My Chest  
 **Author:**

**Rating:**  
G  
 **Word Count:**  
3010  
 **Prompt:**  
Charlie found a young child in the Shrieking shack after the war shivering in the corner. He pick him up and promise the child he would take care of him while they found his parents. While taking care of the mysterious lonely child he starts to see similar things that he had seen another man do before, but thinking that this couldn't be true he lets it go and continues to take care of the child  
 **Summary:**  
"Then you and I had best get along until I can find some where for you." Charlie said with a sad smile. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, he was supposed to be in Romania with his Dragons as a perpetual bachelor, getting letters from his family and no where near this injured orphaned child, a child who should be whole hale and happy with his family.  
 **Warnings:** Highlight for spoilers*Mute Character, ANGST, disjointed writing*  
 **Why this was a challenge for me:**  
I've never written anything with De-Aged characters. Also I've never written Charlie and Snape interacting. I wanted them to be a couple but it just wasn't going to happen this fic.  
 **A/N:**  
Wow. This story was quite the challenge. I started it a few days after I got my prompt but then I hated everything I wrote. Tried to write a few more stories hated those and came back to this one and rewrote and re worked it until I was at least vaguely pleased with it. 

Surprisingly enough I really do like it now and I hope you all will too. ☺

*Translation: Oh, you're bad!

\---

 

_Troubled spirits on my chest, where they laid to rest.  
 **-Your Bones, Of Monsters and Men**_

 

Charlie was a Weasley. 

It was obvious, he had red hair and freckles and ate as if he had a hollow leg he was trying to fill, but the most noticeable Weasley trait was the easy way he had with children. Yes, Weasley's were known for their shockingly red hair, but they were renown for naturally nurturing ways that made them so popular with children. From Old Uncle Ignatius down to little Ginny it was the same— when a Weasley approached a child they came willingly and with trust.

That was probably why the others had sent him into the shack when they peered around the doorway and saw the boy lying naked in a pool of blood on the floor. They had pulled Charlie from the body littered battlefield and rushed him to the shrieking shack.

Now that he thinks back on it was possibly one of the smartest things they did. The lumbering order members and the hardhearted Aurors would have approached it all wrong. 

Charlie slipped out of his boots and padded across the filthy floor in his socks, never thinking twice about the blood he stepped in on his way to the child who was breathing ragged and hard at his approach. Charlie lowered himself so that he was kneeling in the blood and gently lifted the boy up to lean on him. 

It was horrifying to see the shredded flesh of his throat weeping blood. The major veins and arteries were miraculously still in tact and his windpipe wasn't severed but severely lacerated. Charlie did hat he could waving his wand and uttering every healing spell that he could recall to stop the bleeding and stabilize the filthy blood covered boy in his arms.

*

Madame Pomfrey had seen to the child immediately. She waved her wand over him funneled potions down his throat and sadly announced that the boy was malnourished, had had more broken bones than any human being should ever suffer and would likely never again speak. The boy was scrawny and looked all of six years old when he was actually nine, he was either tortured by death eaters or had escaped an abusive home. And whatever cursed beast and seen fit to try and tear his throat out had damaged his voice box beyond even magical repair.

Charlie watched as the child looked around the ward with large dark eyes. When ever he saw a white sheet being draped over yet another body he flinched as if his knew what it meant. 

Hell, at this stage in the game he probably did. 

In this world, innocence was dead.

*

"What's your name?" Charlie asked that night, holding out a parchment scroll and a self-inking quill.

The boy hesitated for just a moment before scribbling 'Eliot Prince.' In a cramped, sharp hand.

"Where are your parents, Eliot?" 

The boy didn't look down not even once as he scribbled down the letters. 'Dead'.

"I'm sorry."

'Don't be,' He tapped the page with the quill and scribbled the rest of his response, 'it was a long time ago.'

Charlie nodded and looked at the pale boy with the long dark hair and sighed heavily. "I'll be the one looking after you until we can find a member of your family to come get you."

'I can look after myself.'

"Trust me, I don’t doubt that."

'No one will come, there is no one left.'

"Then you and I had best get along until I can find some where for you." Charlie said with a sad smile. This wasn't the way things were supposed to go, he was supposed to be in Romania with his Dragons as a perpetual bachelor, getting letters from his family and no where near this injured, orphaned child. A child, who by all rights, should be whole hale and happy with his family.

This war, these deaths— they should never have happened.

*

Elliot was a peculiar child.

He didn't play, he didn’t run and he never asked for anything. 

Elliot didn’t sit for lesson with Molly like some of the other children— he already knew everything she had to teach them and red more than anyone expected from a child. He shunned the other children and frequently hid from them in the most obscure places he could find.

Grimmauld place had been renovated and filled with children, all orphans of the war or muggleborns who couldn’t go home. Everyone was welcome within Grimmauld's walls but Eliot would not stay. When Charlie Floo-ed Elliot would cram himself into the grate along side him, when he disappartated Elliot grasped his arm, or robes. Eventually Charlie gave up and set the sofa up in his hotel room so the boy could have a comfortable place to sleep.

After five months of clean up and repair efforts the time had some for Charlie to return to the reserve. 

Once again Eliot would not be left behind. 

At first Charlie wondered what his co-workers and supervisors would say. But apparently it didn’t matter much at all. Elliot was quiet and unobtrusive. No one but Charlie ever really knew that he was there. It didn’t matter that the boy didn't know Romanian, it didn't matter that he trotted through the reserve watching the dragons with dark intelligent eyes.

"Do you like dragons?" Charlie asked once.

'No,' Eliot's long slender fingers flickered through signs and gestures. They weren't the smooth and quick gestures that the Sign Language tutor used but Charlie was grateful for that. Because Eliot signed slow Charlie could understand, 'See dragons alive, I never. New, interesting.'

*

"Are you a squib?"

Eliot's face turned red with fury and the windows of Charlie's cottage burst. 

With a flick of the red head's wand the windows were all back in one piece. "You could have just told me no."

*

'Today not my birthday' Eliot signed as he sat up in bed. The boy pushed the curtain of dark hair out of his face and tucked it behind his ears.

Charlie took a good look at his charge, the boy had filled out. All it had taken was a bit of food and he was growing like a weed, lean long and irrepressible. His features were striking, a narrow face, dark eyes, high brows and that hawkish nose… He would never be handsome, but he was certainly striking. 

He had a familiar look about him.

"You never told me when your birthday was so I figured we'd make the day I found you an anniversary of sorts." He offered.

'January 9'

*

They ate breakfast together just as they did everyday. They both sat at the too small table with their knees bumping one another and scarfed down eggs, bacon, fine Egyptian coffee and some fruit.

Charlie reads the comics in the newest issue of the paper. Eliot struggles to understand a paragraph of whatever article has the biggest picture. The paper is all in Romanian, and Eliot is learning slowly, gruelingly, —alone. 

Elliot won't accept any help.

*

Norberta, in her bratty determination to not be given her medications has taken to knocking her tamer around with her tail. It hurts a bit but it wont be anything more than bruises, or that's what he says until she fling him into the river.

When he heard the sound Charlie wasn't sure of what to think. It was not the giggle or chuckles that the mirth of children usually is but more of a breathy gasping hiss accompanied by shaking shoulders, teary eyes, and the widest smile Charlie has ever seen.

Charlie takes great pleasure in knowing Eliot can laugh, even if it as his own expense.

*

They visit Brittan once in a while, mostly to see Charlie's mum.

Molly watches Elliot with sad blue eyes and bakes all kinds of delicious things. He never tells her he doesn’t need her pity, because her pity comes with mince pies, black forest cake, strawberry shortcake and moist and delectable pot roasts. 

She can feel bad all she wants to so long as she keeps cooking.

Charlie takes him to visit his siblings. 

The wolfish elder with the pretty wife has two children of his own. They're toddlers yet (the oldest three nearly four) with golden hair and pretty faces. Charlie laughs at Elliot when he lets them mess around in his hair. It's long and thick and holds braids well and so they believe him to be their very own doll. Other times they call him Prince Elliot and play at marrying him, much to his despair. Victorie and Dominique are as annoying as they are sweet; they learn signs when they can because even though he can hear just fine they want to be able to sign for him.

The middle brother, Percy —Elliot remembers him as the over achiever— lives in a small flat in London. He still works for the ministry and he's still high strung but he comes home to an unlikely woman. She's got too many tattoos, dark brown hair and enough wildness in her to make Percy smile. When they visit she takes Elliot shopping in the muggle stores and boutiques, dressing him up in black, orange and dark greens. There are lots of studs and decals on the things she buys him, but they tend to suit him well and it's then he realizes they've got similar taste in clothing. 

The twins are no longer twins. It's only despondent George and his house of Mirrors. He grieves his twin, not knowing how to be with out the other man who had been at his side since before he was born. George's potions and creations are each more brilliant than the last, but he takes no joy from them. Charlie doesn’t stay long.

Next are the youngest siblings, Potter's Shadow and the sister.  
Ron and Ginny, Charlie calls them.

From the moment they walk into the large house in Godric's Hollow Elliot is set on edge. This place is a sinful place, an evil place —his soul aches here. But no one else feels it. Ginny and Ron talk of Harry Hermione and Luna. Apparently they all lived together, Elliot fakes illness to leave before Potter comes back. 

The man will know him on sight. And Elliot Prince enjoys being Elliot Prince. He never wants to be Severus Snape again.

Elliot stays in bed, he sleeps and barely picks at Molly's delicious food. Guilt has made him queasy. Charlie worries for him and sits at his bedside petting his hair and holding him alternately. 

It’s a good feeling, being loved.

They go home to Romania two days later.

*

There is one night Charlie doesn’t come home.

Eliot wasn't worried at first, but as time creeps on he leaves the comfort of their cabin and walks briskly —but never runs— to the main office. The woman behind the desk today, Tyler her nametag says, tells him that Charlie has been taken to the infirmary. Charlie has been burned rather badly by one of the Chinese Fireballs he was working with.

Eliot returns to their cabin, pulls out the caldron he's never seen Charlie use and starts to brew. All night; burn salves, pain relievers, anti-scarring ointment.

*

Two years had come and gone. They had celebrated their anniversary of meeting one another and becoming family unto themselves. In three weeks was Christmas and in just two weeks after that was Elliot's real birthday.

Charlie ponders what to get his boy. A broom wouldn't do, Elliot didn't care much for heights. An owl wasn't necessary. It was only Charlie and Eliot and the reserves as well as every magical school had an owlery. And so Charlie is forced to ask Elliot what he wants.

"For Christmas and for your birthday." He says cheerfully.

Elliot looked shocked, as if he expected Charlie to overlook him on such important days. 'I get two gifts?' he signed slowly, clearly bewildered by the idea. His dark eyebrows climbed towards his hairline in disbelief.

"Yes, one for Christmas and another for your birthday."

'Want only 1. Thick quilt. Very big thick quilt. HUGE.' Elliot signs.

"You want a quilt?" Charlie asks, unsure and taken by surprise. "What ever for?"

'I'm going to Slytherin for certain. Dungeon always cold.'

Charlie just nods acceptingly and sends Elliot off to bed. Once the boy is asleep Charlie fire calls his mother, he needs to learn how to make a very big and thick quilt.

*

Charlie had the tips of his hair singed off and would have been a human candle had the brook not been nearby. When he came home with singed hair and a tired smile Elliot had presented him with a bottle of flame resistant hair potion and a knowing smile.

It made Charlie's hair feel greasy, but it was better than catching fire again.

*

Quinton from the night shift, who lived in the cabin next door's Kneasle had a litter of kittens. Charlie brought one of them off of him for two galleons and a shift exchange.

Charlie snapped a collar around its neck, tied a bright blue ribbon to the collar and hope Elliot wasn’t allergic to the little beast.

*

It wasn’t often that Charlie saw Elliot during the days. He worked with the Dragons during daylight hours and though sometimes Elliot tagged along, most of the time he spent at home doing who knows what.

That said it was surprising to see Elliot seated at one of the tables of the common areas with Georgia, the thirteen year old daughter of one of the other Dragon handlers playing chess and flirting shamelessly with her. 

She snickered and punched Elliot's shoulders, "Oh, esti rea!*"

Charlie hung back and smiled. Elliot had a distinctive taste; Georgia was very pretty with sharp catlike features, bright green-blue eyes and wild curly red hair. She was a sweet girl with a wicked sense of humor and a sharp tongue. 

Charlie walked away leaving the boy to his pursuits and went home to jab his fingers with a sewing needle some more.

*

Christmas had come with snow this year.

Elliot sat at the window and watched the snowfall outside wrapped warmly in his dressing gown and Pyjamas. The sleeves were too long and he had to hake them back every time he lifted the mug of hot milk to his lips. Elliot kicked his legs lazily back and forth, enjoying the feeling of his bare toes grazing the rug.

"You're up early." Charlie rasped from the doorway of his bedroom, still sleep rumpled and bleary eyed.

'Watching snow. Here, Spinners End very different. Snow is very white, clean. Not gray because mill smoke.'

"I've never heard of Spinners End before. What was it like?"

'Horrible.' The boy reached out across the table and grabbed the newspaper wrapped gift and held it out to Charlie.

*

January 9th 2000 found Elliot Prince seated at the table near an open window with the kneasle kitten Boss in his lap. The white and gray spotted Kitten lounged in his lap flicking his tufted tail back and forth.

He didn't move until the owl he had been waiting for arrived.

**Mr S. Snape**  
Second Bedroom  
Cabin 17  
Romanian National Dragon Reserve  
Romania

 

Elliot looked at the address and heaved a large sigh. 

S. Snape, Severus Snape —A man he no longer wanted to be.

This was his chance, no one back there knew of Elliot Prince. The quills were automated, they sent out letters on their own. There was no ay to inform the head master (Minerva, now. He thinks), with out outing himself as Severus Snape. 

Severus Snape a man destined to be unloved, unwanted and miserable.

Elliot grips the quill he had waiting for just this instance and scrawls a note, rejecting the invitation to the place he once called home. He's shaking too hard to tie the letter on the owl's leg and he lets the bird take it from his fingers instead.

Elliot feeds the letter to the fire and lays there on the hearth rub sobbing, glad for once that he has no voice. He doesn’t want Charlie (or anyone else, for that matter) to hear him.

*

Charlie comes out of his bedroom later that morning and looks at the child on the floor. Elliot was in his pyjamas, his eyes puffy and swollen and his face stained with tears. It was likely that he had tried to wait up for the owl, but it from the looks of things, it had never come.

Charlie trotted back into his bedroom and pulled the quilt he had finished last night out from its hiding place. Wordlessly he draped the quilt over the child and lifted the boy and his blanket into his arms. 

The quilt was massive; larger than one would need for a king sized bed, and it nearly drowned the both of them as Charlie steeled them on to the sofa. Charlie watched as Elliot traced the patterns of the fabrics (all grey, black, blue and green) and the orange thread that held it all together and created little whimsical designs.

"I'm so sorry, love. We can petition to Darmstrung if you want to."

Elliot shook his head and lay back into Charlie's heat allowing himself to be held and his hair to be pet.

*

He was no longer Severus Snape. He was Elliot Prince.

Wrapping in the warmest, softest, biggest quilt he'd ever seen and Charlie's arms he couldn’t even mourn. This was exactly what he gave up his past for, a true second chance. One that was not conditional on how useful he was or the people he once considered friends. This was purely a chance for himself.

Elliot traced the wave pattern that the orange thread made across some blue and gray stripes when he heard Charlie's thick coarse morning voice in his ear. "I'm so sorry, love. We can petition to Darmstrung if you want to."

Elliot shook his head and leaned back into the comfort that was Charlie's arms and presence. He wanted to be nowhere else.

**End**


End file.
